


I'm Not Fooling Around With You (Baby, My Love is True)

by katebishoop



Series: tumblr prompts [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Secret Relationship, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 21:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk Clarke had zero impulse control. Sober Clarke had even less.</p><p>And that's how she ended up sleeping with Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Fooling Around With You (Baby, My Love is True)

**Author's Note:**

> **anonymous (always-bespoke) asked:** Bellamy. Clarke. Season one. R Kelly's Bump N Grind.

Clarke woke up with a pounding migraine and an ache between her thighs. She cringed at the morning light that peaked through the tent - wait,  _tent_? She normally slept in the dropship. Clarke tried to sit up, but then an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back into a warm chest.

She cranes her head around to find Bellamy sleeping soundly next to her, his mouth hanging open and drool dropping out. Clarke can feel something, uh, pressing into her backside.

She was in his tent?  He was naked? _She_  was naked? They were in bed -  _together_?

It all comes rushing back to her then.

_Unity Day._

* * *

 Bellamy sighed as Clarke strode up to him for maybe the third time that night. “Will you stop worrying about me? I’m _fine_. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“What if I said that me having fun depends on you having fun?” Clarke’s speech was much more sloppy than before. She may have won the last drinking game she played - or, the last  _four_ drinking games, to be exact. She had more than enough liquid courage. She shoved a drink at him. “C’mon.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but his smile was amused and slightly fond, and it made warm things dance around in her chest.

“Fine.” Bellamy’s voice was just amused as his smile. He downed the drink in one go. “How many more do I need to catch up?”

Clarke froze; she tried to count in her head:  _one, two, four... seven…_  Her confused, dumbfounded expression got a laugh out of Bellamy.

“I think it's time that you’re cut off, though.”

He put his arm around her shoulder, and Clarke immediately let him support most of her weight.

Later, when Bellamy was close to catching up (he’d never be able to fully catch up, considering Clarke kept sneaking shots behind his back), she held onto his arm - half to hold her up, half to pull him down to whisper in his ear.

“You having fun yet?” Clarke asked, and Bellamy beamed at her and nodded. Clarke lowered her voice, trying to sound seductive despite the sloppiness, and reached her other hand down to play with one of his belt loops. “Well, do you want to have  _more_ fun?”

* * *

 Clarke remembered everything. She remembers stumbling with him back to his tent. She remembers the frenzy it was to get their clothes off. She remembers his head between her thighs, she remembers how he  _felt_ -

Clarke extracted herself from Bellamy’s bed as quietly as possible, desperately  wake him. She had to get out of here. The sex had been - wow, but. She scolded her drunk self. She had always found Bellamy to be attractive - how could she  _not_? He only wore a shirt half the time. But she hadn’t ever thought to act on it, but then their leadership had shifted from reluctant necessity to co-dependence, and, well.

Drunk Clarke had zero impulse control.

Clarke struggled to get back into her pants; she jumped on one foot and bumped right into the table.

_Dammit._

“Clarke?”

She whipped her head around. Bellamy had woken up; he was sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Clarke was having none of this right now, nope. Quickly she threw on a shirt and grabbed her jacket and shoes before darting out of the tent, Bellamy’s confused voice trailing behind her.

Thankfully, everyone was too hungover to have noticed her leaving his tent that morning.

Clarke busied herself in the dropship, doing inventory of all their herbs and other medical supplies. Again. She needed a distraction - anything to not think about the events of the previous night.

But as always, the universe was against her.

She heard the flap ruffle as he pounded up the dropship ramp, “Clarke, can we talk-”

“Why won’t you ever wear a shirt!” Clarke blurted out frustratedly when she saw him and then immediately snapped her mouth shut. What was  _wrong_  with her?

Bellamy nodded in her direction. “Uh, you’re kinda wearing my shirt there, Princess.”

Clarke looked down and yes, yes she was wearing his shirt. She must have grabbed his shirt by mistake in her rush to get out of his tent that morning. She felt herself blush furiously.

Bellamy gave her a sheepish grin, and held up her shirt in his hand. “Trade?”

That only made Clarke blush harder. She snatched the shirt out of his and quickly turned around, yanked off his and shrugged on hers before tossing his shirt back at him. She just wanted his whole awkward exchange to be over with.

“Okay?” Clarke hated that her voice was higher than usual. She turned her back to him once more and began working again.

She heard him sigh and shrug on his own shirt. Clarke stilled as he stepped closer to her.

“Can we talk about last night?”

Clarke swallowed. “What’s there to talk about?”

Bellamy leaned up against the table next to her, “About how great it was, for one thing.” Clarke felt herself blush for an entirely different reason. “And how we should do that again sometime.”

The scalpel that Clarke had been holding clattered to the floor. Her mouth went dry. “What?”

Bellamy shifted next to her. “You, me, a bit of stress relief now and again.” He leaned over, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck. “We make a pretty good team. Think about it.”

He left the dropship, and Clarke stayed like that, frozen and as red as a tomato until the camp came to life around her, and Jasper stumbled in the dropship with a gash on his forehead in need of stitching.

* * *

Turns out that sober Clarke? She had even less impulse control.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Bellamy - not just about his offer, or his body, or the things that he had done to hers the night before, but of  _him_.  They did make a good team, in more ways than one.

Besides, he was right - they could both use some uh, stress relief.

She was already in his tent when he came back from his guard shift, and her lips were already on his before he could get a word out. All his surprise melted away as his arms wrapped around her and hoisted up, placed her down on his pallet and settled above her.

* * *

She never spent the night, not since that first, drunken time. She always made sure to be gone before he and the rest of camp woke up. Although every morning it got harder and harder to extract herself from underneath his arm.

Bellamy Blake was a cuddler. Who knew.

She didn’t want anyone to know about their arrangement. Would everyone listen to them if they found out? Would they assume any agreements they had were because they were sleeping together?

Besides, it was no one’s business who Clarke was sleeping with.

“There you are.”

 _Not again._  Clarke sighed, but didn’t turn around to face him.

“What do you want, Finn?”

Another perk of sex with Bellamy? She was now 100% over Finn. She wasn’t a virgin when she slept with Finn, but he had been the first  _guy_  that she had ever slept with. And now until Bellamy had she realized that sex with a man could be so  _good_.

But Finn wasn’t over her; he wouldn’t leave her alone, and he was still with Raven. Which, so wasn’t fair to Raven. If Clarke had had her choice between the two? She’d pick Raven every time, and the girl still held animosity towards Clarke.

“We need to talk about Bellamy.”

Clarke froze. No, he couldn’t mean- there’s no way.

“You trust him way more than you should.” Finn went on, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel relieved. “The guns? You’re arming all of his lackeys, who knows when they’ll turn-”

Clarke spun abruptly to face Finn. “ _Lackeys_? We’re all in this together. We need to defend ourselves. And look,” Clarke rubbed at the crease between her eyebrows. Talking to Finn now felt worse than a hangover. “I trust Bellamy. I trust him so much more than I trust you. So if you have a problem with Bellamy? I don’t want to hear it. Take it up with him.”

The look on Finn’s face was all she needed to know. She wouldn’t take it up with him, because the guns weren’t the real issue. Finn was jealous that Clarke trusted Bellamy more, than she relied on him more, that she spends more time with him that she does Finn.

Clarke had to a suppress a cruel laugh, honestly, because Finn had a lot more to be jealous of than he knew.

* * *

Myles had fallen out of tree, Connor had nearly shot his toe off, and Fox clearly had failed Earth Skills back on the Ark, because she got a terrible rash thanks to poison ivy.

Clarke had been in medical for nearly eleven hours now. She’d definitely need to go to Bellamy tonight for a little… stress relief.

Things were, different, again. It was getting harder and harder for her to leave in the morning. They had never discussed feelings or anything, but she got the vibe from when he first suggested this, that it would be a strictly sex arrangement.

Clarke could live with that. She liked Bellamy, she liked him a lot more than she did when they first landed. And she was attracted to him. But she soon realized that she was attracted to a lot more than just what she could see from a distance.

Bellamy Blake, mythology nerd? Bellamy Blake, seamstress? Bellamy Blake, giver of pony rides? 

Then there were times where she thought, maybe Bellamy had a change of heart too. She’d notice that he’d stand closer to her when they were together. He’d brought her lunch one day, scolding her for missing breakfast,  _we need you, you know that?_

He held onto her in the night. She always had to pry herself from his arms.

He smiled a lot, his face seemed to light up when he saw her. That smile, that would make her stomach flip and make her feel as warm and fuzzy as moonshine did.

The more time she spent with him, the more time she got to know him outside of yelling and outside of pained, desperate conversations, the more she learned about him, the more she fell for him.

Clarke had never been good at separating feelings from the physical - but even with that, Bellamy felt different. Clarke said she could live with a purely sex arrangement, but. She couldn't help it - she wanted  _more_. 

_How the hell did she get herself into this mess?_

But then she learned something else.

She was around the fire having dinner, her first time sitting down all day, with some of the girls when she finds out.

“Oh, look Bree’s putting the moves on Bellamy again.” Harper faux-whispered to Monroe.

Monroe just snorted, not interested in gossip.

But oh, Clarke was interested. She turned to see where Harper was looking, and there Bellamy was, sitting down at one of the other fires, with Bree half on his lap, her hands in his hair.

“Please don’t talk about my brother’s over active sex life around me,” Octavia groaned from next to her. “It’s already weird enough knowing that there’s like, a one-in-five chance I’m talking to some girl he’s slept with. Please don’t make me think about this around you guys. None of you have fucked him, I thought I was safe here.”

Monroe laughed, and Octavia threw a small rock at her.

“One-in-five? More like one-in-three.” Harper said, and it was her turn to get a rock thrown at her.

Had Clarke really been that blind?

She hadn’t noticed anything… but then again, she wasn’t really out here that late, before, she was mostly out of camp, or in the dropship.

She was just another girl in his rotation. Did someone else fill his bed every night she didn’t go there?

Had she really thought that there could have been something more?

“Where are you going?” Octavia asked when Clarke stands up.

“Bed.” Clarke said, and she’s so tired, truly, for so many reasons, “I’m exhausted.”

She went back to the dropship, and tried not to look in Bellamy’s direction as she passed.

* * *

This was completely different that the situation with Finn, Clarke knew that. Her and Bellamy never said anything about exclusivity, there were no late-night conversations and admissions of feelings. Bellamy didn’t cheat on her.

But Clarke felt like shit all the same.

So she avoided Bellamy. She avoided his tent, she avoided him; she avoided being near him and looking at him and even talking to him if she could help it.

She couldn’t avoid him forever though, because Miller came into the dropship not much later lugging an unconscious Bellamy behind him.

“What happened?” She was in full on doctor mode. “Help me get him on the table.”

“Fell off the wall,” Miller said, with a grunt. “Leg got caught, he hit his head on the ground. He’s been in and out of it.”

Clarke wiped a hand over her face. “I’ve got this Miller, thanks.”

She took off Bellamy’s boot and examined his leg. It didn’t look like anything was broken - thank God, that’d never be able to heal right with the limited supplies they had - just sprained. She can already see a bruise forming around his calf; there was a gash though that would need stitches.

The gash on his forehead would need stitches too. Clarke hadn’t even realized she was stroking her fingers through his curls - natural, craving the feeling of it that she missed - until he pressed his head into her hand like he had been missing it too.

“Hey,” Bellamy said, opening his eyes. His voice was pained and groggy.

“You’re an idiot.” Clarke said. “You could have broken something-”

Bellamy tried to sit up, “I need to talk to you-”

“Woah - you’re not going anywhere.” Clarke placed her hands on his chest to hold him back. “and if you needed to talk to you didn’t need to go and _injure_ yourself.” She scolded him.

“Really?” Bellamy snorted. “This is the longest conversation we’ve had in like a week.”

Clarke glared at him. And they lapsed into silence as she sterilized her tools.

“And, uh,” Bellamy sounded a bit embarrassed. “This-” He gestured to his head. “Unintentional. I had at least, two other plans to talk to you before resorting to this.”

It was Clarke’s turn to snort. “Just hold still.”

Bellamy didn’t speak as Clarke stitched up the gash on his head, and he kept his flinching to a minimum at least.

“What changed?” Bellamy asked when she moved to go work on his leg. “Why are you avoiding me all of the- AH.”

Clarke failed at repressing her smile as she poured the moonshine on his leg. “You tell me.”

“Clarke, If I did something wrong-”

“Look,” Clarke set her tools down, “I’m just was tired of being used.”

“ _Used?_  Clarke-”

“You know, your hands are fine.” Clarke wiped her own hands off on her pants. “You can stitch yourself up.”

Bellamy tried calling after her, but she was already gone.

* * *

Clarke was pining, she knew it. Even though she had stopped sleeping with Bellamy, her feelings didn't change. If anything, they grew stronger. 

Her heart flipped whenever she saw him - it made her both embarrassed and angry. She just couldn't get over Bellamy. She was constantly torn between wanting to punch him and wanting to jump him. 

He'd catch her sometimes watching him. He'd have this look on his face, a mixture of longing and sadness and hope that made her want to just go up to him and-

And then another girl would come by and drape herself over his arm, and Clarke would turn away.

She'd get over it, eventually.

* * *

Clarke didn’t need to turn around to know who was coming up the ladder behind her.

Clarke groaned. “Bellamy-”

“No, okay?” Bellamy slammed the hatch shut behind him and stormed over to her. “I need to say something."

He looks angry, his finger in the air as if to make a point. But she stares him down, and his angry melts away into something Clarke recognizes as sadness, as desperation.

"Octavia was right - you're right," Bellamy mumbled more to himself that to Clarke, "I am an idiot."

Clarke raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to elaborate, to tell her something she didn't already know. Bellamy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I didn't tell her or anything, she figured it out," Bellamy begun, "She said you saw..." Bellamy shook his head. "Look, Clarke, nothing happened. She tried - but I shot her down. I haven't slept with anyone else since long before we started this whole-" He gestured between them.

"I don't want to be with anyone else." Bellamy pleaded. "I want to be with  _you_. Just you."

That was not what Clarke was expecting.

"What?" Clarke said, frozen.

Bellamy bit his lip, "I- I really like you Clarke. I think I may be in love with you, okay?" Clarke felt as if she was just hit with a shock baton. "I have since  _before_  Unity Day, and instead of just telling you like a normal person - because like I said, I'm an idiot - I just... proposition you?" He sounds just as uncomfortable with the word as she feels. "I didn't think you felt the same, but you initiated it the first time, so maybe I thought, I don't know, you'd warm up to me-"

"Bellamy," Clarke finally took pity on him and stopped him. "You're rambling."

"Yeah, but-"

"I like you too." Clarke said, and Bellamy's eyes widened - like he didn't even think that was a possibility. "I just... I got jealous. I had thought you may have felt something more, but then I saw-" Clarke flexed her fingers. "I didn't want to be another girl in your bed so I- ugh, we're both idiots aren't we?"

That got a laugh out of Bellamy, one that caused a smile that lit up his whole face. And just - fuck it.

She kissed him.

He responded automatically under her touch. His lips working against hers, his mouth opening to let her tongue in. An arm around her waist, another in her hair.

"I think I may be in love with you too, by the way." She breathed out when they finally pull apart.

His smile is brighter than the one before, and she's just continually amazed by him.

"Yeah?" He asked, and she nods. His smile is replaced by a mischievous grin, and there's something heavy in his eyes. "How much time do you think we got before someone comes looking for us?"

Clarke mock ponders it over a moment. "Not long. You better work fast."

"I think I can manage that."

**Author's Note:**

> I miss season 1, and I so miss being able to write Clarke and Bellamy without numerous tragedies behind them.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


End file.
